A Shadow Hath Fallen
by Anna-Salem
Summary: Grima Wormtongue plots to overthrow his one, true master...I hope to get lots of good reviews....or even any!!
1. Default Chapter

Personal Notes: This is a "Lord of the Rings: Two Towers" fanfiction. The characters belong to the people who...well, own them. SO, without further chatter from me...  
  
  
  
  
  
The court was stony, cold, not welcoming. At the head of the room stood the throne, the withered corpse that was King Theoden sat in a heap upon it. His lifeless eyes had taken on a glaze, their pupils hardly visible. Next to him hunched a spindly figure, the King's advisor, Grima son of Galmod. The man had a twisted body, and a pale, cruel face. Two pinpricks of laser blue stood out from this ivory face, blue eyes that witnessed all that went on throughout the court.  
  
Eomer, the King's nephew, crashed through the heavy wooden doors.  
  
"I demand to speak to the King at once," he growled at the sniveling Grima. Wormtongue rose from his velvet seat, his little footsteps barely audible as he approached the gallant  
  
Rider.  
  
"I'm sorry, young Eomer, but the King does not wish to speak to you." His eyes flashed with hatred for the young man. Brushing past him, Eomer stormed up to the ailing King.  
  
"Your majesty, I beseech you, please, hear me. I've gotten wind of an orc army heading this way. They have thousands, sir. Thousands!" But the King did nothing to acknowledge his nephew, only stared blankly into blackness. Pleased, Grima left the room in search of a hot meal.  
  
The kitchen burned warmly, pans clinked, the stove crackled. The smell of bread and roasting meats wafted to him. He licked his thin lips, and retreated to the dining hall. No one sat at the enormous table, just the Wormtongue. He sat there for some time, amusing himself with thoughts of Eomer in chains. Also, another thought crept into his foul mind, something equally satisfying. The thought of the Lady Eowyn, also bound, hair limp, her spirit broken. That vision nearly sent him off the chair in search of her, but food was more important. A young servant brought the food to him. The girl wasn't much older than fifteen, he guessed. She was tiny, fragile, with alabaster skin that would yield to the touch. She brought him his food, careful to balance the large tray with her small body. She ultimately failed, and the tray toppled to the floor. His eyes narrowed, for he barely smiled, and flicked the snake eyes across her delicate features. What could he do with such a tender thing as that?  
  
"Girl," his voice almost a whisper. "What is your name?"  
  
"Naima," she said, her eyes averting his.  
  
"Naima, you are a new servant to the King's palace? Well, let me instruct you on how to keep his advisor happy." Grima grasped the girl's arm. "Clean up the mess, and bring me my supper. Now."  
  
He released her, and she scurried to accomplish the task. He grinned inwardly, pleased once more with himself.  
  
  
  
Eowyn sulked about at night, fearful of something she didn't quite know. The sense of something coming. Often pacing the corridors of the castle, she would come upon the throne room. There, the King sat with nothing in his eyes, the color of egg whites. She grimaced, for she knew that some evil had come over him. He had once been a good and just King, the people everywhere were protected from all danger under his rule. But, the advisor had entered his life, turning him into a mindless puppet. She had seen Grima working his magic upon the King, his dark silver tongue slipping into his ear, whispering poison. Wanting to bring her blade to his throat, Eowyn had refrained from speaking to the advisor. Such a man could bewitch her with his snakelike powers.  
  
  
  
The evening was cool, the snow falling out upon Rohan. It engulfed the palace in a bed of white. Eowyn climbed upon her midnight-black horse, patted his neck and said soothing things to him. She removed her practice blade from its leather sheath, and broke the horse into a full gallop. Eomer did the same with his creamy white horse, and they galloped toward each other at top speed. The clashing of swords, the agonizing cry of a painful fake death, and Eowyn had won the mock battle. They sheathed their swords and tumbled to the ground, rolling and throwing snow about them.  
  
Grima watched from a balcony, his eyes longing. They played together, the two of them. A spark of jealousy welled within him. Eowyn's affection was centered on her brother alone. She laughed when in Eomer's presence, her eyes light and full of joy. But, the same could not be said for Grima. He saw only hate in the eyes that looked upon him. Watching the two of them frolic in the snow made him burn with the desire he had felt since meeting Eowyn. He wanted her to look at him that way, to gaze at him affectionately as though he were something she could stand to look at. He would make her see...  
  
Part One...Tell me what you think! 


	2. An Upset

Personal Notes: This is chapter two (of many.) I don't own these characters, though I wish I did. It's based upon the movie "The Lord of the Rings: Two Towers," rather than the book, but it strays heavily from the movie, too.  
  
  
  
  
  
He observed her, as always, from the shadows. She paced the halls restlessly, the midnight her only comfort. Grima sought to satiate her needs, to free her from that which plagued her mind. He knew, however, that he could not be the one to provide her with comfort. For, he suspected that it was himself that was causing her displeasure.  
  
The orcs were coming, he knew. Sauroman had warned him. Grima shivered, his thin, pale skin was littered with goosebumps. The orc's slimy, gruesome faces lingered in his memory even as he slunk down the corridor to the throne room. He collided with Naima, the servant girl, and she fell backward. Tears stung her lifeless gray eyes. He raised a bony fist to strike the girl, but on second thought, helped her to her feet. She stood shakily. Though he was twenty years her senior, they stood the same height.  
  
"Watch where you are going in the future, girl." His heavily lidded eyes turned from her and he continued on his way. She quivered in fear, for she may have angered him. Arousing the advisor's anger wasn't something to be taken lightly.  
  
"My Lord," Eowyn's voice was pleading. "There is something coming, I know it. Eomer will not tell me what is happening, for he is bent on my protection. Listen to me, please.Uncle?" She sobbed at the King's feet. Grima smirked to himself. She had never shown her vulnerable half to him, not by choice, anyway.  
  
"My lady." She looked up at him. Embarrassment crossed her face. The look was also mixed with something else.contempt. "What is the cause of your sorrow?"  
  
Eowyn turned on him, the icy stare startled the Wormtongue. "You. What have you done to him? He was once proud, but you've drained him of his essence. You're a snake."  
  
Surprised at this sudden outburst, Grima withdrew a few steps. She looked as if she were ready to draw her shining sword on him.  
  
"I mean no harm to you," he began to slowly creep toward her, "There are some things that the King has no control over. This kingdom, for instance. He was weak, though blinded as you were by his goodness, you couldn't see it." Eowyn halted, listening to the hypnotic words. "I am here to help you."  
  
She shook her head, cleared the trance from her thoughts. "No. You are a heartless worm, and your words do not touch me."  
  
He sneered. "Oh, but I think they do. That is what frightens you, my lady." He retreated to the shadows, a place that was not only familiar, but provided him with solace.  
  
  
  
Eomer once again urged the King into action. But this time, the matter had reached its peak. The orcs were attacking the kingdom. The villagers were being slaughtered, and the men of Rohan were putting forth their best efforts to keep the forces at bay. Women and children hid within the fortress, but even that wouldn't guarantee their safety.  
  
"Helm's Deep." Eowyn breathed. Her brother only stared at her. He was gathering weapons from the armory, the troops were lined at the gates. "It's our last hope."  
  
"How do you propose to get there? We're under attack!" Eomer cried. He knew what his sister was asking of him, but he couldn't let her go alone.  
  
"You and the men stay here and fight them off. I will lead them to Helm's Deep."  
  
Grima's ears were stinging. The sound of orcan screaming invaded his thoughts. Seeking respite, he crept into the main hall. There, he overheard Eowyn and Eomer speaking secretly while they counted the weaponry. Eowyn was going to lead the women and children away to safety. To the fortress of Helm's Deep. Grima's mind began to churn. Sauroman would be very proud of him.  
  
More to come! 


	3. Plotting

He rode through the falling snow, his horse a black silhouette. The Dark Tower of Isenguard was before him, enormous and statuesque. Though Grima had visited it only once before, he knew the way. It was imprinted upon his memory like the sensitive scar left after a burn. Sauroman stood waiting for him, his staff guiding Wormtongue with its crystal light. He tip-toed up the steps in his meek little fashion and cowered before the great Sauroman. Of course, the wizard looked down on him as though her were really what his name implied: a worm.  
  
"Why do you come at such a late hour?" He bellowed, the long white beard fluttering in the snowy breeze.  
  
"The orcs, my lord, have reached Rohan. It is the Rider's plan to take the woman and children to Helm's Deep."  
  
"The long forgotten fortress of Helm's Deep," the wizard said, knowingly. "The men will stay behind for the battle?"  
  
"Yes, lord." They entered through the imperial doors, Grima following very closely behind Sauroman, eagerly awaiting his reaction.  
  
"Very well. The army will head them off at the pass.and kill them."  
  
Grima, startled, took a step back. "But, my lord, I."  
  
Sauroman's gaze was hard as he stared at his spy. The frightened, disbelieving eyes sickened him. The little man before him, so greedy and almost worthless, wanted more?  
  
"Well, out with it!"  
  
"The Lady Eowyn, sir. She plans to lead the group to safety. I thought a capture would be more in order here." Shrinking back, Grima dared not look at him.  
  
"Ahhh.your prize. I'd forgotten. A capture? I'm not sure the orcs could handle such a task, hungry and weary as they are. But, if you wish the Lady Eowyn to be spared, it shall be so. I had offered you that, hadn't I? And for all your services, I should fulfill my.obligations." The tone, the eyes, they all suggested sarcasm and a bit of malice. But Grima was relieved, despite the hidden meaning in Sauroman's words.  
  
He arrived back at Rohan, the orcs still camped out on the hillside near the kingdom. Grima nodded to a few of them as he passed, a smirk on his face. He flew into the throne room, took his place beside the fallen King, and waited for the men to make their daily report. The King didn't even acknowledge his entrance.  
  
  
  
That night, the third night of the orc's encampment outside the city walls, Grima was restless. As long as the armies weren't in full-fledged attack, there would be no need for the retreat to Helm's Deep, and the plot would be ruined. He had to coerce them into action, had to get the ball rolling. An idea popped into his head, a minor kindling to add to the flame. Sneaking into the servants quarters, Grima entered the room of the young Naima. She slept soundly, curled into a ball. When he woke her she cowered in fear. The girl had heard storied of the advisor and his midnight visits, a hunger always raged within him. But that was not his purpose that night. He had something much bigger in mind for her.  
  
She listened intently to his whisperings. She could make out the tip of his silver tongue as it touched his teeth and lips, the lips that smiled at her for once. Entranced, she had no choice but to obey him.for once you are under the leech's spell, you are helpless.  
  
Lots more soon! 


	4. On the Move

Naima skittered past the main hall, down a corridor, and into the chamber of Eomer. She woke him, urgent and tearful. His eyes were puffy as though from lack of sleep.  
  
"Sir Eomer," she began, "My mother!" Naima couldn't proceed, her tears were coming too fast.  
  
Eomer surged out of his bed. The girl looked up at him in all his god- like beauty, but she continued to cry. He grasped her firmly by the hand and brought her to her feet.  
  
"What is wrong, girl? Tell, or do I have to shake it out of you?"  
  
"My mother and father went, they gathered wood in the village. Orcs are there, sir! They captured them!"  
  
Eomer struggled to clear his mind. Orcs attacking.the troops were less than prepared. He rushed to the armory, forgetting about the girl for the moment, and donned his golden armor.  
  
Grima awoke to the sounds of frantic cries. Women and men rushed to and fro, gathering their things. His plan had obviously worked. Taking his time, Grima dressed. He left his chamber, and went to the King's room. There, Eomer and Eowyn were finalizing the escape. They looked up as Grima entered the room.  
  
"What is all this?" He asked slyly. "The orcs have finally attacked?"  
  
Eomer nodded grimly. "Yes, they have captured two of our servants. How many others, we do not know." Eowyn placed her hand upon her brother's. Grima longed for the day when her hand would rest upon his own.  
  
"Then, we must get the women and children to safety." Grima's face showed none of his inner lying excitement. Eowyn looked surprised at this comment, for she would not have thought such a creature could think of anyone but himself. "I will lead them.for it's true that I have no talent for battle. But, I'm keen on the lay of the land, and could get them safely to.Helm's Deep? It seems a feasible distance, and it's still sturdy and strong."  
  
Eomer, with a newfound sense of respect for the Wormtongue, thanked him. "I wish you a safe journey. My sister will go with you, and may you lead them safely together." Eowyn's eyes lowered, she still did not fully trust this man. But, he was right.  
  
The villagers huddled into one great mass: men on one side, women and children the other. The snow fell rapidly, the path to Helm's Deep would be perilous. Vouging to walk instead of ride, Grima took a stand in front of the mass. "I speak on behalf of your ill King. The orcs who have been camped out on the hillside have found it necessary to attack." There were a few gasps from the crowd. Grima went on, though he wasn't used to shouting. "The men will have to stay here and hold them off, while myself and the Lady Eowyn lead the others to Helm's Deep."  
  
An angry man spat on the ground. He hated the advisor, "Why will you not stay and fight like the rest of us? You're a coward." Another man piped up. "No, he's a woman! Why not let him lead the women?" Eowyn, upset by their harsh words, said, "No. This man will lead us there. He cares for nothing else but the safety of your wives and children. Can you not see?" Ashamed, the men pulled back. They filed into a line, and began to prepare for the battle at hand.  
  
Horses were packed with food and supplies. Women bundled up their children for the long, hard march to the fortress. Naima was there, her parents were not. Of course, she had been orphaned since a tiny child, had lived with complete strangers her whole life. She wasn't important to anyone. But, the advisor had come to her, begging for her help. Her of all people! A little girl. The way he had spoken to her, such compassion and fear. She had no choice but to obey his asking.  
  
They marched. Grima knew it would be days before they reached the pass. An orcan army would be much faster than they, and would meet them there easily. Little did the men of Rohan know, the orcs had already withdrawn, save but a hundred or so stragglers. The "battle" would be short, and by the time it was finished, most of Rohan would be slaughtered. All but his prize. She would be spared. 


	5. Gaining trust

The women were always lagging behind. Grima found his self-control floundering. Often, he found the need to lash out at a straggler, to show his strength and beat them down. But, he knew he would have to be reserved. Eowyn was finally on his side, though she still looked at him with wariness. His bones almost melted, though, because she did not look at him with hatred anymore. There wasn't the tone of contempt in her voice that he was so used to hearing. It made his black shriveled heart beat furiously.  
  
"Grima," for once it was Eowyn who started the conversation. She spoke to him, used his first name. His mouth went dry, and he licked his chapped, greasy lips. She caught sight of the tip of a silver tongue, but made herself continue. "I am still unsure of you. Allow me to.apologize, for my wickedness."  
  
"What wickedness is that, my lady?" They walked on through the snow, occasionally turning to encourage any that were faltering to keep up.  
  
"I have never been kind to you, since you're arrival at Edoras. You were unfamiliar with our courts, and still I turned from you. I am sorry."  
  
He smiled, then. One small victory. "No, my lady, it is me who apologizes. My ways made you suspicious of my character. I shouldn't have been so crude." He took her hand gently, and placed a light airy kiss upon it.  
  
Naima watched Eowyn with a raging jealousy. Grima had spoken to her, and his eyes had beckoned her alone. Why would he turn to the Lady of Rohan? She was confused. Not sure if she wanted to cry or rejoice at her new freedom from the gaze of the Wormtongue, Naima sulked.  
  
Grima sensed a pair of scornful eyes on him. They were to reach the pass in two days. It may have been an orcan spy, but he felt that the eyes that fell on him were human. Eowyn noticed his slight distress.  
  
"My lord, Grima.what troubles you?" He looked around, and finally his eyes locked with those of Naima. She stared back at him: hurt and longing in her eyes. Ahhh yes, he'd forgotten the little mouse. She expected something in return for her duties. She was a tiny thing, and her heart longed for him. He almost laughed to himself at this show of power. He had control over the frail child, and it was a small triumph.  
  
  
  
The day had come. The mountain pass sloped up before them. He'd pushed the group to the extreme in order to make sure they got there at the perfect time. And, as they trudged up the side of the hill, the army awaited them. Eowyn gasped, her eyes widening in fear. Grima tried to wear the same expression, but his sly grin was all that showed upon his thin, pale face. Eowyn realized his plot, her face contorting into that look of hate, only greater. The orcs came down the hillside. The woman and children fled, Eowyn drew her blade. Grima drew his also. They fought, blades gleaming. Grima grabbed a handful of her golden hair, put his sword to her throat, and held fast. The head of the orcan army presented him with his horse. Grima nodded to the orc, and with a wave of his hand, Eowyn was captured.  
  
Woohoo! Yay! More soon. Isn't he horrible? 


	6. Breaking the Cycle

Grima wasn't sure where to go. He couldn't return to Edoras, for he surely would not be welcomed. The only place he thought would suit him would be Isenguard. Saruman would shield him, he was sure of this.  
  
Eowyn struggled futilely in his arms. He rode with her on his horse, her arms and legs were tied. He steadied her, but she still fought with every fiber of her strength. This pleased Grima to no end. When the castle appeared before them, Eowyn stopped struggling to gaze up at the dark tower. It frightened her.  
  
The doors swung open, Grima dragged Eowyn in, though he was nearly unsuccessful. But, his strength surprised Eowyn, for he had always seemed fragile and weak. The white wizard stood before them. His staff glowed, his white beard trailed almost to the floor.  
  
"This must be the Lady Eowyn," he said in a commanding voice. Grima had a look of pride about him, but he tried to mask it with heavily lidded eyes. "Kill her."  
  
At first, it was as if Grima didn't hear or comprehend what he had said. Did he really want Eowyn dead?  
  
"But, my lord. . .all this way, all this time!" He argued.  
  
"Oh, but Grima," Saruman looked down upon the small man. "This is my little surprise. You have disobeyed me several times. You do not deserve so fair a reward for your insolence."  
  
He became stiff with fear, then. He couldn't let her die, never. On his knees before the wizard, he graveled and begged for forgiveness. Saruman was cold as ice to his pleas, hardened by the weakness shown by his servant. Grima sensed this, and stood upright, just as cold, just as menacing.  
  
"No. I cannot, and will not. She's mine, and I will let her life be taken."  
  
Saruman's eyes clouded; he could not stand such insubordination. Not from a worm like Grima.  
  
"You refuse to obey me? There are plenty like you in the world, so easily corrupted, their greed and hatred submissive to control. I will find someone to take your place as you will die with her, tonight." 


	7. The End of a Life or Two

The chains hurt his wrists, his head hung limp against his chest. Oh how he had failed. How foolish he had been. Now, not only would he die, but his one love would die as well.  
  
She stared icily at him, cold eyes reflected disgust. Grima looked away from her, for he couldn't stand the thought of her death.  
  
"Why?"  
  
He looked up into her eyes again, the question lingered between them. He answered as best he could, his mouth was dry, his head ached.  
  
"I'm a fool." Grima thought that would be enough to satisfy her, but she pressed on.  
  
"They were innocent. If you wanted me so badly, you could have taken me anytime. But you had them all killed. Why? Why?" She began to sob. No hope was left in Eowyn, none of the invincible strength present in her soul. She was lost.  
  
Grima had no words then. For the first time in his life, he could not come up with an explanation or lie to get out of his predicament. He was speechless. His head fell back to its resting place upon his chest.  
  
The darkness pressed in upon the two prisoners. Two guards came and removed them from the cell, took them to Saruman. A flock of people were gathered to watch their execution, and Grima recognized some of them as the servants and followers of Sauron. They sneered at him in his weakened state. But, the most cruel and yellow eyes that stared at him from the crowd were those of Naima. Her sneer was as strong as the rest of them. She stepped down from the platform and went to Grima then, lifted his head so his eyes met hers. For such a young a girl, she really was powerful.  
  
"My dear Grima," she spoke to him as a snake would to a mouse, "I am sorry that you have to meet such a fate as this."  
  
If the Wormtongue had had any strength left, he would have been very surprised and greatly disturbed. But he didn't. Naima bent to him, kissed his thin, course lips, and waved goodbye. Eowyn gasped in alarm as she was dragged roughly to the block.  
  
Saruman called to the crowd. "The betrayer, Wormtongue, will now have to watch as we sacrifice his Lady Eowyn. What say you, my lady?"  
  
"I say that you are a heartless, cold, unforgiving worm, and you will fall."  
  
Grima closed his eyes. She had used the same words for him. Saruman merely chuckled, and the blade came swiftly down upon her. Grima's eyes closed tightly. When the tears were about ready to fall, Grima heard the soft thud of the blade hitting the stone. His life was over.  
  
He didn't resist as they pulled him to the block. Saruman bellowed something, but he didn't listen. And as the blade shined menacingly above his head ready to strike, he opened his eyes for a moment. A swift moment only, and before the blade struck him, he thought he glimpsed Naima standing by Saruman, quite contently, and a flash of her silver tongue slid her deadly lips. . .  
  
The End 


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